Ride or Die (Devil's Edge MC #1)

by Terri E. Laine

  She wasn’t scared. In fact, she loved the legendary horror movie villain, Jason Voorhees. However, she just had no desire to be in a real installment of Friday the 13th. She’d watched those movies to laugh at the dumb girls who wandered in the dark alone or called out when danger was near. Never had she been even slightly afraid while watching.

  Unfamiliar with the fear factor, she focused on her real emotion. She was pissed. A whole day had gone by with no way out from under the thumb of the lumberjack. And here she was again. She followed in his wake because there was nothing else to do. Annoyingly, when she caught up to him, he pointed in the direction of the overhead sign with a geometric-shaped woman, as if she were illiterate and needed directions.

  She gritted her teeth, ready to tell him to kiss her where the sun didn’t shine. Only when she glanced back down, he was gone, presumably into the men’s side of things. She stomped in the women’s bathroom only to become further annoyed. It took her a few tries before she found a stall that actually had some toilet paper. With her business taken care of, she was washing her hands when a loud commotion had her heading for the exit. She didn’t have a weapon, but fearlessly she launched herself into danger.

  Outside, a guy did the timber thing as if he were cast as a tree, falling out of the doorway of the men’s restroom with a bloody face and swollen eyes. The lumberjack loomed over him as if his job were cutting down the guilty. His eyes were enraged as he prepared to say something. And she guessed why they were really there before he spoke.

  “Next time you’ll have some courtesy on the road, asshole. It doesn’t just belong to you four-wheeled pussies,” he said before kicking the guy a final time as if he were putting up a fight.

  He’d been in the zone and hadn’t had a clue she was there until he glanced up. He nearly smiled at her, not giving a rat’s ass she’d seen a part of his dark side. Maybe that little demonstration of his finally drove his point home. He wasn’t one to be fucked with and the sooner she figured it out, the better. She needed to understand just what lived under the surface of his remorseless skin. Maybe then, she’d cut the crap and do what he said.

  “Done?” he asked her, not wanting to make conversation. He wasn’t in the mood for her mouth unless she wanted to suck him off. Not that it could happen. She was off-limits in more ways than one. And for fuck’s sake, she wasn’t even his type. He liked his women soft to take his mind off his hard life. He also wanted them eager and willing to please. She was everything but. The only thing she had going for her were her small tits, which was why he still couldn’t wrap his mind around Taylor choosing her.

  Taylor liked big-breasted women, the flashy, Barbie types, real or fake. He, on the other hand, hated that implant bullshit. It was a total turn off for him. Whatever God gave the woman, natural was the way to go. Although, he preferred them small so he could fit the whole thing in his mouth if he wanted.

  When he focused back on her, Piper stood with narrowed eyes. As if recognizing he was paying attention to her, she showed her ass by not answering him. It wasn’t new. She’d been a world class bitch since the night he’d met her at the bar. Still, he found himself riveted to her as she stalked off toward his bike. Temptation grew in his pants because aggression got his blood pumping. He scrubbed a hand down his face, knowing it wasn’t anything more than her being the only available target. He’d take care of things soon enough, so down, boy, he thought.

  When he mounted his ride, he didn’t wait on her, like holding out his fucking hand. He just softly hissed when her arms came around him, and his cock jumped back to life in his pants. He needed to fuck, just not her. He breathed in and out as he brought the engine to life and focused on the task ahead. There was a time and place for everything, so he would wait.

  A car came down the exit, heading in their direction, and his mind shifted from sex to business. He didn’t rush to leave, however. He hoped the four-wheeled fucker was found and told his story. The bastard had cut them off dangerously close. Had he been a less experienced rider…he didn’t want to think about it. Some of his brothers over the years had died in stupid accidents like that.

  He finally drove off with no worries about cops coming after him for assault and battery. The guy had been breathing when he left him and would have one kickass headache or concussion when he came to. And there was no way the guy could ID him without reasonable doubt. The lumberjack had made sure to put on his sunglasses and gloves before he commenced with the ass kicking.

  For the first time, Piper’s voice drifted in his ear through the headset, almost making him jump out of his skin. “Is that guy going to be okay?”

  Her question surprised him. She didn’t seem the sensitive type. And everything he knew about her said she was just as cold as he was in some respects.

  “I left him breathing,” was his only response.

  She didn’t ask any other questions, just nodded against his back.

  He too said nothing. There was work to do, and he needed to get in the right frame of mind. His next stop was one of the easier ones he had to make on the return journey ahead. But one never knew the shit you could encounter even with friendlies. So he hit cruising speed and cleared his head for about a dozen miles before he finally reached their exit.

  Once off the highway, the scenery turned rural with nothing but a two-lane road free of overhead lights. Nothing was ahead, but dense grass and sparse trees that led to a small town in Ohio. He had to admire the location.

  Club business was on the menu for the night. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long. However, the hairs rose on the back of his neck, giving him a bad feeling.

  He pulled down a lane surrounded by tall trees. When he broke through to a clearing, a flat roof building sat alone dead center. There was nothing special about it, rust in color with two blacked out picture windows on either side of a double metal door. It looked much like a long lost industrial structure. The long line of Harleys in a perfect row out front was what gave the place character. It was clear they were in MC territory. If someone was stupid not to figure that out, the Devil’s Edge crest on the door gave it away.

  He angled his bike facing the way he’d come before he parked it, just like the other bikes. It would be easier that way if he had to leave in a hurry. You could never be too careful. Before the engine died, Piper hopped off without being asked. He held out his hand for the earpiece and sunglasses and without a fuss she handed them over. His eyes narrowed.

  “Make this easier on both of us and don’t try anything. They may be a charter, but they aren’t our club.”

  “You mean your club,” she sneered.

  He ignored her tone because hitting a woman was wrong, or so he tried to tell himself. He opened up a saddlebag, pulled out her pack, and reached underneath. She watched, hoping he wouldn’t search her stuff or lock it up. He plucked out something that was buried underneath and held it up to her while pushing her pack back inside.

  “No way,” she said. Her nose wrinkled as if she smelled something bad. “I’m not wearing that.”

  He blinked as weariness overcame him. Until her, he hadn’t been used to his orders not being followed the first time he issued them. He was exhausted from the long drive, and she was trying his patience. He shook out his hand when he realized he’d fisted it. Breathe, he told himself.

  With eerie calm, he said, “It will make things easier.” Although there was only the floodlight over the door, he saw the stubbornness in her jaw, and he shrugged. “Your problem.”

  Her sharp tongue finally made an appearance, making him wonder again why hitting women was bad. “My problem is wearing something that’s not true. I don’t belong to anyone.”

  His jaw was tight, but he managed to say, “Whatever you say, darling.”

  He pushed the cut back into the saddlebag along with her sunglasses and earpiece. Outwardly, he may have seemed cool, but he was holding back his true feelings on the subject. It wasn’t the time. He snagged her bicep and dragged her tow
ard the door. He opened it and watched while they became the main attraction.

  10

  The interior favored the outside façade, nothing really special. There was a hodgepodge of mismatched, used furniture all around. The only thing that looked like it belonged was the bar area in the middle. A medley of leather and metal stools surrounded it, with opposite back hallways that led somewhere on either side. There was a pool table to one side of the bar and a couple of tables with a pinball machine on the other. Leather sofas, in varying colors, lined the walls on all sides.

  There were faces of varying age and gender. The only things that united them were the cuts and colors. Those without, were fair game, per club rule.

  Time apparently stopped when the chime over the door signaled. Everyone inside was ready for friend or foe, with hands no doubt on weapons. As the bikers faced them, Piper decided badass or not, the numbers were against them.

  A booming call was sent toward the right hallway as if they’d been expected. Meanwhile, a mammoth of a man parked it in front of the lumberjack. A clasp of hands and a half hug later, she relaxed some. She hadn’t been sure what would go down based on the lumberjack’s earlier contradictory statements.

  After the man hug, the tension in the club eased as well. A man with a short crop of white hair entered from the right and headed over to greet them by the door. There was an air of respect between the lumberjack and the older man as they traded half hugs and clasped hands. There was definitely more between them than the brotherhood greeting the first guy had gotten. The older man mumbled something in a low voice Piper couldn’t hear.

  When he stepped back, she caught sight of the President’s patch on the older man’s vest.

  “Let’s talk in the back,” President said without a glance in Piper’s direction.

  The lumberjack nodded and stared at her as if she needed a lesson on club politics. He pointed at Piper and called out to the chapter’s president, “She’s property.”

  She cringed at the term. Her teeth ground together as she fought the instinctual urge to say something snarky. It wasn’t the time to make herself more noticeable, not with a plan forming in her head.

  The President was only a finger taller than her, but commanded the room with his voice. “Leave her alone. She’s property. Got it?”

  Grunts and acquiescence came from all around, and finally everyone went back to doing whatever they had been.

  “Pet,” the President said. A brunette woman in her early to mid-forties stepped into the light. She’d been submissively standing somewhere behind the guy. “Take care of her.”

  The woman nodded like she’d be happy to do anything to please the older man, including getting on her knees and sucking off the lumberjack if the President asked her to.

  “Stay,” the lumberjack commanded to Piper.

  She rolled her eyes, but the lumberjack had already barreled away, assuming his command would be as eagerly followed just like President’s had been by “Pet.”

  “Hi, I’m Patrice. Most people call me Pat.”

  She guessed she heard wrong. The Pres. hadn’t called her Pet, but Pat. She shook the other woman’s offered hand. “I’m Piper.”

  “Nice to meet you, hon. You look like you could use a drink.”

  The woman sauntered behind the bar, and Piper parked it on an empty stool. The bar area was oddly empty. Everyone else stood or lounged on the sofas if they weren’t playing pool. One couple was using the pinball machine, but not the way it was intended.

  Piper’s focus returned back to Pat and finally she replied, “That bad, huh?”

  “No, hon, it’s just you look tired, long ride I expect.”

  Piper nodded at the woman’s observation.

  “You hungry?”

  That thought hadn’t crossed Piper’s mind until Pat said something. Piper didn’t want to put the woman out, so she only shrugged.

  Pat dipped down and came up with a longneck she placed right in front of Piper. “I think they’re going to be a while. I’ll go and see if I can make you and your man a sandwich. I’m sure he’s hungry too.”

  “He’s not my man,” Piper corrected real quick.

  “Oh, I assumed…”

  Piper shook her head, keeping her trap shut. Pat seemed like a nice woman and didn’t deserve any of her wrath nor her disgust at the idea of being property. She was sure Pat loved being “owned” as she wore her man’s cut proudly.

  “Sorry.”

  “No worries,” Piper managed to croak out.

  “I’m going to search out the kitchen.”

  “No rush. Can I use the restroom?”

  Pat pointed to the left with a finger tipped with bright, blood red nail polish. It felt ominous to Piper like she should stay put. “Sure thing, hon. It’s down that hallway. Third door on your right.”

  Piper watched Pat head through a door directly behind the bar before she casually walked in the direction Pat had pointed her. No one stopped Piper or paid any attention. With one word, the President had made her escape easy as pie.

  Fate finally had her back as the dimly lit hallway ended with an exit door. She couldn’t have planned things better. With a single glance over her shoulder, she stepped out into the night.

  To the left, she walked onto the gravel driveway. Each step ground under her foot and made her glance around to see if anyone heard her. It was interesting how she hadn’t noticed the crunching sound of the rocks when they first arrived. But no one was outside the clubhouse. She was safe.

  Once she made it to the lumberjack’s bike, she glanced at the blacked out windows in the front of the building. She doubted anyone could see out of them. Based on when they’d entered, no one had known of their approach.

  Quickly, she opened the unlocked saddlebag, putting the cut that had once been hers on the seat while she scooped out her backpack. In a rush, she stuffed the leather vest back in and closed the top. Fleetingly, she longed for a smoke, not that she was jonesing for one. The aroma of the bar held undercurrents of tobacco, and that reminded her of things lost. She ignored the urge and took off for places unknown.

  Knowing what he was likely to do once he realized she was missing, she didn’t head in the direction they’d come. That would be the first place he’d look. So she headed toward the back. It looked deserted, but she had her Glock G19 and her phone she could reassemble in a pint if she needed to navigate directions.

  She jogged, wanting to put as much distance between her and the clubhouse as she could. The need to conserve energy for the long haul had her holding back from an all out run.

  The only problem with her plan was that she was too busy listening to her inner thoughts and her rapid heartbeat and missed the sounds of movement ahead.

  11

  “Look what we have here.”

  Before she could react, meaty arms locked around her from behind. A wiry guy stood in front of her with a tall, lanky guy behind him. Only three, she mentally calculated. The odds weren’t good, but they didn’t appear more than common thieves.

  She didn’t allow herself to believe that she would succumb to their dirty deeds. She would get herself out of this situation and exact revenge. That goal kept her mind mentally sharp.

  A second later, she was propelled, stumbling toward the Wiry guy’s grasp. “Fun night for us, boys,” the leader called out.

  The smell of weed wafted from the trio, which gave her greater hope for successfully getting away. Oily hair hung just above Wiry guy’s brows. His eyes filled with evil intent as he shoved her hard. She went down, unable to stop the momentum.

  She hit the solid compact earth with a back jarring thud and lost her breath for a second. That was all it took. One moment of vulnerability and her hands were stretched above her head by Meaty guy. Her legs were pulled taut by who she assumed was Lanky guy, because Wiry asshole got in her face.

  Hands she soon planned to sever groped her breasts, and she was never happier about her constricting sports bra.
She pushed back thoughts of revulsion. That could come later if she allowed it. It was important for her to remain focused if she wanted to get out of this before anything happened.

  “Kind of small, aren’t ya. No matter.” To his pals, Wiry guy added, “Flip her over.”

  He rose up from his crouched position as she was rolled face down, forced to eat tuffs of crab grass. Still held by either end, she played her role and made mewling sounds that would, hopefully, help her soon. Her only chance with the odds stacked against her was for them to assume her helpless.

  “Aw, baby, we’re going to make this good for you.” The other two continued to let Wiry guy speak for them, and that was going to cost them.

  Plus, there was the whole we thing that solidified that they were, in fact, a team in matters like that. Clearly, it wasn’t the first time for them to coordinate efforts in their little makeshift rodeo. It only made her more determined to make them pay in the worst way.

  Rough hands came underneath her and undid the button of her jeans. Then hands coarsely tugged the tight material down over her hips and ended up taking her boy shorts with them. Damn tight material. In unison, as Wiry guy pulled her hips up, the hands at her ankles allowed for the forward progress of her legs. She ended up on her knees, with her chest flat on the ground.

  She felt a stubby cock as the asshole rubbed himself against her ass. She bucked like a bull, continuing the role of damsel in distress. She would have to end this soon, but she needed one more thing.

  Wiry guy cackled, “Damn if you don’t feel good.”

  “Assholes, I’m not one of your club whores.” She gave them one more out before a kill decision was made.

  “If you ain’t here by invitation, then you’re trespassing. You know what they say about trespassers.”

  She continued to struggle, which worked into her plan either way. Too compliant and they might be more on guard.